Being good in business is the most fascinating kind of art. Making money is art and working is art and good business is the best art. -Andy Warhol
1. Wild Weekend Nonsense. I’m not sure what you were up to this weekend, but I had every intention of making mine a little wild and totally unforgettable. I knew I’d be traveling all over the US for the rest of September, so I decided to stay close to NYC for the weekend- starting with a trip to the local nude beach with one of my best friends. Why? I’m not sure why- it just seemed like the right thing to do. The best part of the nude beach story is that she came to pick me up in her shiny red BMW straight from a meeting with her lawyers, so she was dressed in a coral crushed velvet blazer and board room-worthy hair. She didn’t exactly look like a nude beach-goer in her fancy shoes and makeup, but it made the whole experience that much funnier. Especially when I spotted a tattoo on her I hadn’t previously known about.
2. To Even Out the Nudity… By Sunday I was in full on Mom-mode, so a bunch of us plus Benny hopped in the car and headed to Amish country. As I write this I realize that my local travels make me seem like a schizo, and that I should consider just being more normal and having a weekend in the Hamptons. But that’d be too boring and never, ever satisfy me. So Sunday we headed deep into Intercourse, Pennsylvania. Yes, that’s really the name of the town, and yes, it’s really a safe haven for bonnet-wearing Amish folks with horse drawn buggies and such. Benny loved the entire experience, and much to my surprise, so did my friend Rebecca. Rebecca ended up bonding with a pair of particularly hungry-looking sheep at a petting zoo while wearing Louis Vuitton encrusted eyewear and a Ferragamo fanny pack. No, I’m not kidding. She looked like a white Russian chick channeling 50 Cent and a midwestern soccer mom all at once. It was beautiful, strange, and perfect.
3. Darcy, My Officemate. TheLuxurySpot’s offices in NYC are in a big, lofty space in SoHo. We share our space with a fashion showroom partially because we don’t need all that space, and partially because we love the feeling of working around racks of gorgeous clothes, and partially because we just love the girls that work for the other company. One of the girls, Darcy, is a super cool early 30’s with a distinctly Brooklyn flair, a rock solid marriage, and an ongoing fascination with the indie music scene. About 30 minutes ago she marched into my office with this:
Darcy: Did guys ever tell you they got blue balls like when you didn’t make out with them to completion?
Me: Huh? When?
Darcy: You know, when you were like a teenager?
Me: No, I was too cunty to even care. Are you suggesting that’s not a real medical condition?
Darcy: No, I just found out from my husband that blue balls aren’t even real. Ugh, I got guilted into handjobs.
Ashley: Correction- HJ’s. Nobody says handjobs anymore.
blue balls are very real.
doubtful.
darcy says blue balls are just propaganda. darcy know this stuff. you should see how soft her hands are.